


Give Me Love

by Traviosita9124



Series: Song Fic [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Academy!Fitzsimmons, Casual Sex, F/M, finally becoming something more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 18:08:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4147722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traviosita9124/pseuds/Traviosita9124
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow up to "Alone With You." Jemma realizes she's made a mistake. Hopefully she can fix it, before it's too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me Love

She stares at her phone, disbelief slowly setting in to her alcohol-fuzzed brain.

He hasn’t responded to her text. Fitz always responds if he isn’t able to meet her, otherwise, he just shows up. But it’s now 2:30, she had sent him a text asking him to come by nearly an hour ago, and there’s still no Fitz. Jemma sighs before undressing and slipping into her bed, alone on a Friday night for the first time in months.

As she drifts off, disbelief ebbs away and is slowly replaced by disappointment.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Her mood is sour when she wakes.

Not only is a headache quickly forming behind her eyes, but she had woken up alone after a fitful night’s sleep. Jemma isn’t sure when, but she had gotten used to sleeping next to Fitz, had learned to breathe in rhythm with him, with one of his arms acting as her pillow while the other anchored her to his chest. She feels disappointment bloom fresh in her gut, and reaches for her phone hoping for a distraction.

No new messages.

No new notifications.

Her eyes flick to the corner, checking the time. Noon.

Fitz would be having lunch now, most likely at the canteen. Once he’s finished, he’ll head back to his room to touch up his designs before heading to the engineering labs. He’s predictable, even on a Saturday, and she has enough time to shower before ambushing him at his dormitory.

Biting back a groan, Jemma swings her legs out of bed. She undresses quickly, gathers her shower things, and, after snatching some aspirin out of her medicine cabinet, begins to get ready for the rest of her day.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She’s surprised to find that she’s nervous, standing before his door, although she’s incredibly grateful that the rest of his floor seems to be out enjoying the warm spring day.

She’d nearly lost her nerve, standing in front of her closet as she dithered over what to wear. She’d been tempted to go with something that showed more skin, to make him think about what he’d missed out on last night, but lost her nerve at the last minute. Now, she brushes her palms down the front of her jeans, adjusts the well-worn hoodie she’d stolen from him ages ago, and reaches out a tentative hand to rap against the wood.

“Jus’ a secon’,” a well-known brogue calls out, and she can’t help but smile at the sound.

The door opens, revealing him, dressed casually in jeans and an undershirt. She’s about to give him a bright hello, when she notices his face. He isn’t smiling at her, and she feels her heart sink into her stomach. She’d made a mistake coming here, but she presses on, wants to see him, needs to see him.

“Hi, Fitz.”

She’s proud that she manages to keep her voice steady, even if she feels her smile falter. Thankfully, the good manners his mother ingrained in him are in full effect, and he quickly steps aside so she can enter. This isn’t her first time in his room, but it is the first time in several months that she’s seen it in daylight. His desk is covered in blueprints and mockups, and he’s halfway through building some kind of miniature model. She’s pleased to note, though, that he’s still using the hamper she’d tucked into the corner, instead of leaving his clothing scattered about the way he had when they’d first met.

“Wha’ are you doin’ here, Simmons?”

The briskness of his tone is accentuated by the loud click of the door shutting.

“I-- I just--,” she trips over her words. What is she supposed to say? A series of possible responses flash through her mind:

_I sent you a text last night.Where the fuck were you?_

__

_I couldn’t sleep last night without you next to me._

__

_I think I’m falling in love with you._

She quickly shakes off the last thought, briefly meets his eyes, and swallows thickly.

“I missed you,” she finishes lamely, glancing down to stare at the toes of her shoes. She hears him scoff as he heads back to his desk and sits heavily before the design he’d been working on. He makes a few adjustments to the blueprint, time seeming to stretch on endlessly as his pencil scratches its way across the page. Just when she thinks he won’t acknowledge her again and she’s trying to find a graceful way to make for the door, he speaks.

“You kno’, Simmons, I dinnae think I’m th’ only man on campus tha’s willin’ t’ scratch tha’ particular itch.”

She jerks her gaze upward, eyes narrowed at the back of his head. He’s still bent over the drawing, still making alterations, perfecting the design. She steps closer, watching him as he works, and she finds her eyes drawn to his hands. They’re large, yet nimble, and she shivers a bit as she recalls the way they span her naked waist, how the calluses scrape against her delicate skin as he makes her moan. The way the memory dances in her mind, she nearly forgets to be upset with him, his tone, and his implication.

“What exactly are you saying, Fitz?”

Her breath catches in her throat when he glances at her over his shoulder. Even from the odd angle, she can see that his eyes are hard and hot, with a fierce edge. He’s been this way with her for at least the past month, cagey, with something simmering just below the surface of his skin whenever they’re alone. It stokes her own anger; she knows what he’s implying, and it troubles her deeply, but she wants him to say it. He obliges her, sneering slightly as he does so.

“I mean tha’ there are plenty o’ other men for you t’ fuck if you need t’ get off, instead o’ callin’ me at all hours.”

She grabs his shoulder and  jerks him around to face her on the stool, temper flaring.

“Don’t you DARE say that to me, Leopold Fitz. I’m not some slag that runs around picking men up just to satisfy an urge!”

He stands abruptly, crowding her space, but Jemma refuses to back down. She’d rather be damned than he think that of her. He’s the only man she’s had for months, and she’s struck by the realization that she has no desire for any other.

“Isnae tha’ wha’ you did wit’ me, Jemma? Pick me up an’ take me home t’ help you celebrate finals?” He presses on when she doesn’t speak. “I mean, you’re th’ one tha’ wanted t’ keep it all compar’mentalized, isnae tha’ right? So, wha’ am I supposed t’ think when you only text me, never call me, t’ come over a’ two in th’ mornin’?”

She rankles at the idea that she’s the only one to blame for their current predicament, and she quickly finds her voice despite it being off-kilter thanks to his nearness.

“It’s a team sport, Fitz! I don’t recall hearing you say no, or stopping me once I started taking off my clothes, and last night-”

She stops abruptly, at a loss as to what to say next. Last night had been the first time he’d rejected her, and it had most definitely been a rejection. It had hurt like hell, but she doesn’t want to tell him, can’t tell him, because telling him means admitting to breaking her one rule: no emotion. Although, if she were honest, that was clearly already shot to shit, otherwise she wouldn’t be standing here with him, in his dorm, arguing about what should have been a non-issue.

“Las’ nigh’ wha’, Jemma?” His voice has gentled somewhat, although it’s clear he’s still demanding answers of her. He wants her to be accountable for what she’s done, but she’s not sure how to give him that. He swallows and looks her dead in the eye before continuing. “I cannae do this anymore, I cannae come whene’er you call me an’ be expected t’ shut it off wit’ th’ sunrise. I though’ I coul’, bu’ i’s no’ me. I lied t’ you when I tol’ you I coul’ do this withou’ th’ emotions an’ all tha’.” He swallows uneasily and his body’s gone jittery, his hands fidgeting with excess nerves at his sides. She moves on instinct, reaching for him and folds their fingers together, gently brushing her thumbs across his knuckles.

“You were th’ firs’,” he confesses, voice soft, “my firs’.”

Her eyes snap to his face, seeking him out, and although he’s slow to meet her halfway, he does eventually. He’s bashful, unsure if he's said something wrong, and seemingly desperate for her to understand. She ponders the things she could say, how she could reassure him, tell him that she’s started to feel something, but none of them feel satisfactory.

So, she steps into him, and rising up slightly on her toes, presses a kiss to his mouth. She’s careful to keep it at just that, a simple kiss, so he can accept or reject her offering. Just as she’s about to pull away and leave, convinced that he no longer wants her, she feels him return the pressure as he frees one hand to wrap around her waist. Jemma sighs in relief as she wraps her arms around his neck and allows her tongue to brush against his lower lip. She sinks an apology into the kiss, begging his forgiveness for being so dense.

He wordlessly accepts, his mouth opening to her, and she gladly allows her tongue to tangle with his as he moves them over toward his bed. They’re forced to break apart when they undress, which takes longer than is strictly necessary as they keep coming back together, seemingly unable to separate for too long a stretch of time. Eventually, though, they fall into bed together, and Jemma takes the first opportunity she’s ever had to admire him in the muted sunlight that’s bathing the room in gentle golds. Straddling him, she studies the shadows that play across the planes of his body before leaning down to kiss him once more.

His hands tighten on her hips, bringing her down to meet him as he grinds up against her, and Jemma can’t help but gasp against his mouth as his length brushes against the sensitive flesh. He grins up at her, proud of himself, and she feels her heart lift as she recognizes that the man from their first night together has returned to her.

Fitz’ touch is gentle, nearly reverent, as he cups her breast with his left hand, his thumb brushing against her nipple causing little ripples of pleasure to dance across her skin. Ever attentive, he skims his right hand across the curve of her hip before letting it make its way between them to dance over her center. The way the rough pads of his fingers catch on her clit cause her thighs to quiver, and soon she’s whimpering into each kiss. Jemma lets him lead, and when he’s satisfied that she’s wet and wanting for him, he guides himself into her. The breath hisses out of her lungs as she takes in the feeling of him against her, unimpeded by any barriers, and a pleasant shiver runs up her spine at knowing that it’s Fitz inside her, hot and thick and heavy.

She rolls her hips against him, placing her hands on his chest for leverages as she rides him. She keeps her pace gentle, enjoying the way he looks at her and the way his hands can’t seem to settle, skimming all over her body. She tries her best to say with her body what she can’t put into words: that she’s sorry she hurt him, that she could never purposely do him harm, and that she loves him, even if she can’t quite express it. Still, despite the easy pace, it’s over before she’d like, and she’s clenching around him as he thrusts up into her, chasing each other into the abyss.

She slips off of him and curls into the space between his arm and his chest, sleepy and satisfied. Fitz’ fingers dance circles across her back as he presses kisses to her hairline, and between their activities, his attentions, and the steady beating of his heart beneath her ear, she finds herself quickly succumbing to the weariness she’s been feeling since she woke.

But not before she hears him whisper, “I think I love you, lass,” into her hair.

It’s the sweetest sleep she’s ever known.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Song title taken from Ed Sheeran's "Give Me Love."


End file.
